PURPLE AND 
ps eas FINE LINEN 

,Z9 
F167 
Copy 1 

_ PRIZE PLAY OF PURITAN TIMES 
IFn Cbree Bets 



BY 

AMITA B. FAIRGRIEVE AND HELENA 
F. MILLER 



Produced by The Lend a Hand Dramatic Club of 
Boston 



Copyright, 1913, by Ethel Hale Freeman and 
Samuel French. 



CAUTION.— Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that 
"PURPLE AND FINE LINEN," being fully protected under the 
copyright laws of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any 
•ne presenting the play without the consent of Samuel French 
will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for 
the right to produce "PURPLE AND FINE LINEN "must be 
made to SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 WEST 38TH STREET, NEW 
YORK CITY. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN, 



CHARACTERS. 

John Belden. .Minister "in the way 'of tryall" to 

Hatfield 
David Sylvester .... Young soldier in love with 

Experience. 

Deacon Epaphrus Small A Puritan elder 

Elkanah Parsons Clerk of the Court 

Tom Dearborn. 

Magistrate. 

Simeon Meekins Acting as lawyer for the 

prosecution 
Five Northampton Suspectors. 

Constable Of Northampton 

Sexton. 

Goodwife Dearborn A widozv of Hatfield 

Betty Her daughter 

Goodwife Parsons Of Northampton 

Experience Her daughter 

Lucie A slave 

Suspectors and Townspeople. 



TMP96-CQ7302 



g)C!.D 35330 



Purple and Fine Linen 

ACT I. 



Scene: — John Belden's study in Goodwife Dear- 
born's house. Goodwife Dearborn and Good- 
wife Parsons sit at the table quilting. 

Goodwife Parsons. Verily, it must be a hard 
thing fcr thee, Mercy Dearborn. Now, my Ex- 
perience is a most sober and godly child and is ever 
a delight to her father and to me. But I can 
sympathize with those who are not so fortunate in 
their offspring. 

Goodwife Dearborn. Thinkest thou that thy 
Experience taketh after thee? 

G. P. (consciously) I have been told so. 

G. D. (carelessly) Mayhap 'tis true. Now my 
Elizabeth resembleth me not at all. Deacon Small 
hath often remarked it. 

m G. P. (meaningly) Oh ! the Deacon ! (she looks 
sideways at Goodwife Dearborn) 

(Singing is heard off u. r.) 

G. D. I wonder what Elizabeth is doing. 
Methinks she hath not yet dusted this room, (with 
a faint touch of pride) Elizabeth is indeed a hard 
wench to manage. An her dear father were alive— 
(sighs) 

3 



4 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

G. P. I am able to understand and sympathize. 
Now my Experience hath never caused me a mo- 
ment of anxiety, save when she was assailed by 
such diseases as children are subject unto. 

G. D. Ah, Silence, the least anxious periods of 
my life were those when Elizabeth was confined to 
the house by colds and like ailments. She was safe 
then, (enter Betty with scissors and a basket of 
flowers. She sings) Hast thou done thy spinning 
stint this morning? 

Betty. Not yet. It is so beautiful out of doors. 
{showing flowers) See Mother! That fresh rain 
has opened all their eyes ! 

G. D. Didst thou help Lucie with the dishes ? 

B. Nay, Mother. She always saith she doth not 
wish me about. These are for John, (holding up 
some poppies) His room is so dingy! 

G. D. Elizabeth, thou hast not dusted Mr. 
Belden's 'belongings. I can write my name on this 
book. 

B. Oh, poor neglected John ! I will get a duster 
this minute. 

G. D. Elizabeth, how many times must I tell thee 
that thou art not to speak of Mr. Belden by his 
given name? It is most discourteous and irreverent. 

B. I do forget, Mother. He doth not impress 
me as an object of awe. Dost know him, Goodwife 
Parsons? He is not very old. His eyes laugh, even 
when he draws down his mouth like this, (she 
draws down her mouth, puts her finger tips together 
and stands still, trying to look serious) Who would 
ever think this to be his private room — the only 
room in the house where he may never be alone ! 

G. D. Elizabeth, thou knowest that I sit here 
only of mornings because the sun is warm on this 
side of the house. Go and fetch a broom and duster 
and see that thou finish thy task before Mr. Belden 
returns. 

(Exit Betty r.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 5 

G. P. Neighbor, I have on my mind something 
that I think it my duty to tell thee. They have it in 
Northampton that Mr. Belden will marry thy 
daughter. I need not conceal from thee that one 
reason why I wished to visit here to-day is to probe 
into the truth of the matter. 

G. D. (surprised) Mr. Belden marry Elizabeth! 
(trying not to look too pleased) She is but a child. 

G. P. I was assured of thy becoming surprise. 
Had it been that Mr. Belden's name were linked 
with that of my gentle Experience — although I am 
not one to boast of it — nor to blame thee, neighbor, 
I could assure — (enter John Belden r. ) Mr. 
Belden! (rising) Oh, Mr. Belden, are you not 
back earlier than usual? 

Belden. I had information that Deacon Small 
is to pay me a visit this morning. 

G. D. Goodwife Parsons of Northampton is 
spending the morning with me. 

G. P. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of 
one whose name is on the lips of all (courtesies) 
Do you not enjoy hunting wolves, Mr. Belden? 

Belden. Verily, I hardly know. Friday is the 
day on which one of my calling beginneth to think 
about what he is to say on the Sabbath. 

G. D. We will go at once, Mr. Belden. Your 
room is so warm and sunny that I enjoy sitting here 
of mornings. 

Belden. It is a pleasant room. You must not 
allow me to drive you away. 

G. D. Indeed, Mr. Belden, a minister's widow 
knoweth that one must not be disturbed when pre- 
paring his Sabbath text. Come, Silence Parsons, 
there are some curtains newly come from Boston 
which I should like to show unto you. 

Belden. I trust I shall see you again, Goodwife 
Parsons, ere you leave us. 

G. P. (r. c.) Thank you, Mr Belden, I am not 
returning until evening, (aside to G. D.) Of a 



6 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

truth, I must contrive a meeting for Experience 
with him. 

{Exeunt the two ladies. John sits at the table and 
makes preparations for writing. Enter Betty. 
Shp begins to sweep, eyeing Belden slyly. 
When he pays no attention, she tries to make 
him look up, but fails. She comes up behind 
him and puts her hands over his eyes.) 
• 
Belden. Who can have captured me ? (feels of 
her hands) It must be Lucie. 

Betty, (indignantly) Stupid! Are these like 
Lucie's? 

(She thrusts her hands before him and he takes 
hold of them.) 

Belden. Betty, you are a witch ! 

Betty. Why? Because I have a broom? 

Belden. That is one reason. 

Betty, (pulling her hands away) You must not 
hinder me. 

Belden. Very well, (he goes back to his work. 
Betty dusts energetically, looking every little zvhile 
at Belden. Finally she conies up behind him and 
begins to dust him) What a child it is! 

Betty. Mother said to dust everything in the 
room and you are here. 

Belden. And therefore to be dusted? (he takes 
the duster from her) Why doth not some one 
invent a duster that will lav the dust and not raise 
it? 

Betty. That is just what father used to say. 
(she comes closer to him) John, I believe you re-* 
mind me of my father. 

Belden. Do I ? 

(Betty brings out a small stool and sits down near 
him.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 7 

Betty. This is the way I was wont to sit with 
father. An I kept very still, he would suffer me to 
stay here — in this very spot — while he wrote his 
sermons. He called it being Elizabeth instead of 
Betty. 

Belden. I would have you stay here, Betty — 
Elizabeth, (he tries to concentrate upon his books, 
finds it difficult, at last gets the Bible and turns over 
the leaves. Finally he turns to her. He is c. She 
is l. c. ) Can you not suggest a text for the Sab- 
bath's sermon? 

Betty. Shall I? I remember quite a lot my 
father would use. 

Belden. And which one would you have 
chosen ? 

Betty, (thinking a minute) I know, " Why art 
thou cast down ? " You see, the congregation al- 
ways looks so unhappy. 

Belden. I fear I do not satisfy them. 

Betty. Oh, yes, but there is something — (she 
thinks an instant and then shakes her head) I fear 
I am not wise enough to help. Experience would 
teach you. 

Belden. Do you think I need experience? 

Betty. A little of Experience (pause) Parsons 
would do you good. I like you because you did not 
laugh at that. Father never laughed at me, save 
when I wished him to, of course. He was the kind 
of man I would wish to marry, but, you see, Mother 
captured him first. 

Belden. That was unfortunate. 

Betty. We had such good times together. But 
he used to put his hand on my head and scold me 
sometimes. 

Belden. Scold thee? (he puts out his hand) 

Betty. I was only telling what he did and not 
what you might do. 

Belden. Why should I wish to scold thee, child? 



8 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. Oh, I do not know ! It is a way people 
have. 

Belden. I am not going to have it that way, 
Betty — Elizabeth. 

Betty. I never minded when Father scolded me. 
He did show me where I was wrong. It's true I 
am a very sinful creature. I hate to do the things 
I must and long to do the things I must not. 

Belden. What are you longing to do just at 
present ? 

Betty. Oh, I am longing for a silk frock, red or 
yellow, and made with pretty, soft flounces. Now 
this thing looks as though there was just enough 
cloth to go around me, does it not, and not one jot 
or tittle more? 

Belden. Methinks it becometh thee very well, 
Betty. 

Betty. Does that mean it is wicked to wish for 
a better one? 

Belden. Nay, there is nothing wrong in liking 
pretty things, child. 

Betty. I would that the Deacon thought the 
same ! 

(Enter Goodwife Dearborn carrying distaff.) 

G. D. Betty, thou must not come in here to 
trouble Mr. Belden when he is busy preparing his 
text. 

Betty. I have helped him with his text. 

Belden. Goodwife Dearborn, I like to have the 
child here. 

Betty. Of course he liketh to have me here! 
I tell him all my sinfulnesses and then he uses me 
for an example in his sermons. 

(Enter Tom.) 

G. D. Elizabeth, Goodwife Parsons hath asked 
me to allow thee to 



& 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 9 

Tom. (r. c.) Mother! 

G. D. Thomas, thou art not to interrupt older 
people. I was saying, Elizabeth, that there is to be 
a gathering of young people at the Parsons'. 

Betty. Oh, truly ! Now I must have a new 
frock ! 

Tom. Mother ! An Father were alive, would not 
he suffer me to go to the wolf -hunt with the other 
men ? 

G. D. Thomas ! How many times must I forbid 
thee to interrupt? A new frock, Elizabeth? 
Wherefore? 

Betty. Oh, Mother, I do so wish for a silk 
frock ! Something pretty so that I may feel fit- to 
eo to the Parsons'. 

G. D. Something in which to flaunt thyself in 
the public streets, thou meanest? 

Betty. But no, Mother. Experience doth wear 
bright clothes and she hath a tiffany hood and gold 
buckles on her shoes. 

G. D. It is allowable for people of great estate 
like the Parsons. But the law saith that it is intoler- 
able ior people of our condition so to bedeck them- 
selvtj. It is sinful extravagance and pride of the 
flesh. Thou wouldest be presented to the grand 
jur) child, for such behaviour. 

Betty. I would as lief be presented to the grand 
jur, an I had some pretty clothes in which to 
appear. Mr. Belden, make her suffer me to have 
a 'vtik frock. 
" Tom It is not wicked, is it? 

G. D. Children, let Mr. Belden be ! Thomas, be 
silent i 

(Tom sits down on the tabic.) 

Belden. Goodwife Dearborn, I do not consider 
it wicked for those who can afford them to wear 
pretty clothes. It is natural for the child to long for 
them. 



io PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. Oh, John! 

G. D. Elizabeth, how dost thou dare to be so 
familiar with the minister? But even an it were, 
as Mr. Belden says, no sinful desire, we could by no 
means spend the money necessary to set thee out 
as thou wishest. 

Tom. An thou wouldest suffer me to go to the 
wolf-hunt, I would kill the wolf and get ten shillings 
to buy Betty a silk frock. 

(He bounces off the table, scattering books and 
papers upon the floor.) 

G. D. Thomas ! 

Betty. Never mind. It was so cluttered with 
books and papers. 

Belden. Also ladies' handiwork, (picks up an 
antimacasser) 

Betty. Oh, that is where I left the ugly thing. 
I had trusted it was lost for good. 

(Lucie appears at the door r.) 

Lucie. There's a man on horseback coming up 
through the pasture. 

G. D. (going toward the door) Now both of you 
shall stay here and put the table in order. Mind 
me! (exit r.) 

Betty. I do not wish to. 

Belden. Come, Betty, it will not take long. 
Thou shouldst obey thy mother in all things. 

Betty. AYould you like me to? She doth not 
wish me to come in when you are here. 

Belden. Do you like to come in here? 

Betty. You could not drive me away with a 
flaming sword. 

Belden. Betty ! 

Betty. This room is very dear to me. It makes 
me think of Father. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. n 

Belden. Oh ! 

(He arranges his papers. Tom sits on a pile of 
books and reads aloud.) 

Tom. " Disclaiming all Confidence of and any 
worthinesse in ourselves, we do promise and engage 
in the presence of the Lord, . . . . , that wee will 
Cleave one unto another in brotherly louve — " Mr. 
Belden, what made you want to be a minister? 

Belden. Why, Tom? Dost thou consider it too 
great a task or art thou thinking of the deprivations 
consequent upon it? 

Tom. I should think it would be almost as bad 
to have to 'write sermons as it is to listen to them. 

Belden. It is, Tom. But hast thou ever thought 
that, an a sermon can teach thee nothing else, it can 
teach thee patience? 

Betty. And it can teach thee a straight face, 
too. But your sermons are not as bad as most. 

Belden. I am thankful to meet with some 
approbation. 

Tom. We thought you would be like Deacon 
Epaphrus Small. 

(Enter Lucie r. ) 

Lucie. Youah mother said for you to finish 
puttin' this room to rights, 'cause Mr. Sylvester has 
come up from Hartford and wants to see Mr. 
Belden. 

(She goes about arranging the room.) 

Belden. Sylvester! 

Tom. Aw, haw, see Betty blush! 

(Exit u. r.) 



12 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. I am not blushing. David Sylvester is 
naught to me. On the contrary, he is much struck 
with Experience Parsons. 

Lucie, {volubly) I should think he was. Goody 
Parsons thinks she's broken off the match and little 
meek Experience pretends like she's forgotten all 
about him, but all the time she's writin' to him and 
makin' love to him right under her mother's nose. 

^ Lucie takes the broom out.) 

Betty. Hush, Lucie ! 

{Enter r., Goodwife Parsons, Goodwife Dear- 
born, Tom, David Sylvester and Elkanah 
Parsons. ) 

David, {crossing to r. c.) Betty! 

Tom. {opening bundle) A gun! A snap-hance ! 
There is not a lad in Hatfield who owneth such a 
beauty. Thank you, David. 

David. How dost thou, Betty ? 

Tom. Now I can go to the wolf-hunt. 

Betty. What hast thou in the bundle for me, 
David ? 

David. I know not, Betty. Thy uncle and aunt 
Dearborn did it up. 

Betty, (pulling from the bundle a long scarf) 
See, Mother, see! 

G. D. Yes, child, it is very pretty but rather too 
bright, methinksr 

Elkanah. Dear Betty not art thou over-fond of 
gay stuffs? I would wear scarlet an it would draw 
thee in my direction. 

Betty. Nay, Elkanah, sombre colors best become 
thee, sombre and grim. 

Elkanah. Am I so dull to thee? 

Betty. I do not say that, neighbor. 

G. P. Yes, of course it is pretty, but I should 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 13 

blush to see my daughter flaunting it. Besides 
(turning to Betty) Elizabeth, thou already hast 
one scarf ! 

Betty. I have a blue tippet, but 'tis not like 
this. They call it a fascinator, but I am sure it 
never fascinated anyone, (she puts on the scarf) 
See it float behind me ! It seemeth like wings ! 

Belden. Sylvester, you must be tired and dusty 
after your journey. I prithee go into my room and 
rest you. 

David. I thank you, Belden. 

(They go toward door L. ) 

Belden. Will you come, neighbor Parsons? 
Elkanah. I will remain here with neighbor 
Dearborn. 

(Enter Lucie with another bundle.) 

Betty. Another bundle ! Oh, I am glad David 
has come! (David and Belden exeunt l., be- 
ginning to open the bundle) Tom, art thou sure 
thy hands are clean? 

Tom. Of course they are. Am I*not fresh from 
the|pump, sister? 

(They open the bundle.) 

Betty, (taking up a necklace) How beautiful. 
(she pulls out a rouge stick) And what dost thou 
imagine this to be? 'Tis with the baubles. 

Tom. Methinks 'tis a drawing pencil. See, it 
maketh red marks. 

Betty. But why should Aunt Mindwell send me 
a drawing pencil ? I cannot draw. 

Tom. Girls are of small account. Give it me. 

G. D. How unfortunate ! 

Betty. What is it, Mother? 



14 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

G. D. Mindwell Dearborn's extravagance, child. 
Here she hath sent me yards of silk for curtains and 
only yesterday did my order come from Boston. 
We have too much already. 

Tom. {nudging his sister violently) Didst thou 
hear that? Too much already. 

Betty. Oh, Tom. 

G. P. (aside to Elkanah) Is not the Deacon to 
come here to-day, Elkanah? 

Elkanah. He thought it best to do so. 

G. P. Indeed it is time. 

Elkanah. (darkly) I hope he is in time! 
Methinks she careth already ! 

Lucie. What shall I do with the silk, Goody 
Dearborn ? 

G. D. Put it in the cedar chest. It may be of use 
when Betty sets up house-keeping. 

(G. P. smiles at Elkanah. Exit G. D. r. ) 

Betty. Lucie, do not put it away. I wish to 
look upon it. 

Lucie, (uncertainly) What you goin' to do with 
it? 

Betty. Mayhap I would take steps to set up 
housekeeping, (throws the silk over her shoulders-) 
Doth it not match me? 

Elkanah. Yes, verily. 

Betty. Suffer me to take care of it, Lucie. 
After my Mother sees the pretty frock I will make 
of it, she will suffer me to wear it. She said an 
we were rich enough. 

G. D. (off stage) Lucie! 

Lucie, (going out r., and shaking her head) 
Don't you get into no mischief. 

Elkanah. Thou dost desire to be rich, Betty? 

Betty. Who doth not? 

Elkanah. Why dost ever turn from me? My 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 15 

groceries are fast adding to my purse. I might one 
day make thee rich, Betty. 

Betty. I care not for thy groceries ; I have told 
thee. 

Elkanah, Wilt thou never listen to me? 

Betty. Thou art too solemn, neighbor. Thy 
thoughts are too worthy to be wasted upon me! 
Come, Tom, help me to fold it. 

(Betty and Tom stand at ends of the silk and wind 
themselves up in it.) 

(Enter John l. They wind him in, too.) 

Elkanah. (at door r.) As I thought! As I 
thought! (exit) 

Belden. What have we here? 
Both. We have you! 
Betty. Release the prisoner ! 

(They unwind the silk.) 

Belden. What is it Betty, tell me. 

Betty. I am to have a new frock. Mother's 
chief objection was that we had not the where- 
withal. Lo, Aunt Mindwell and David have pro- 
vided. Shortly I will press you into service to help 
us cut out the gown. 

Belden. I am unacquainted with the art of mak- 
ing ladies' gowns. 

Tom. 'Tis most simple. Betty lies on the cloth 
and we cut around her. 

(They all laugh.) 

Belden. I feel like an aider and abettor of mis- 
chief. 

Betty. And it is worse to connive than to devise. 
There ! Now say I do not give heed to thy sermons. 



16 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Belden. I had forgot. Deacon Small cometh 
here this morning. In truth he should have been 
here long ago. I wonder what hath delayed him. 

Tom. {laughing heartily) Oh, ho! I know, 
Betty, I know ! Mr. Belden, my fish line caught in 
the deacon's wig. His hat did fall off and he did 
say a most (slozuly) ungodly word and his wig 
went sailing away over the wood. That is why he 
is not here ! 

Betty, (trying to be severe) Thomas Dearborn, 
thou shouldst be ashamed so to maltreat a deacon 
of the church. Art thou not sorry? 

Tom. Yea, I am sorry that it went sailing away. 
It would have made such a fine kite. 

Betty. But, Tom, it was an unfair advantage 
to take of an enemy. 

Belden. The deacon is not thine enemy, Betty. 

Tom. Yes he is. We know. 

Betty. He wisheth to marry my mother. 
Would you wish him to marry your mother? 

Belden. What hast thou against him? 

Betty. He sits so straight up and down and doth 
not even cross his feet. And he talketh through his 
nose and smileth never. He is as disagreeable to 
me as — the prick of conscience. 

Tom. He walks like this, (imitates the deacon) 
He gets all through using one leg before he begins 
using the other. 

Belden. All men have faults. You should be 
willing to condone the deacon's. 

(Tom goes over to the window.) 

Betty. We are willing to condone them, but we 
do not want them in the family. 

Tom. (looking out of the window) He is coming 
now ! He will catch me ! 

(Exit John r. ) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 17 

Betty. Let us stay! It's such fun to watch 
him ! 

Tom. (running to door l. ) Quick! 

Betty, {running to the window) Here, Tom! 

(Betty covers Tom with the cloth under which he 
crouches r. Betty runs to l. and hides behind the 
settle) 

(Enter Belden r. with Deacon.) 

Belden. This is indeed kind of you, Deacon. A 
beautiful day, is it not? 

Deacon. Eh? I was not thinking of the weather. 
I have more weighty matters on my mind. 

(He goes over to the settle and sits facing the 
bundle. ) 

Belden. (perceiving what has happened in his 
absence) Will you not take another seat? 
Deacon. Eh? Wherefore? 

(Goes to chair l. c.) 

Belden. Mayhap the settle would be more com- 
fortable. 

Deacon. I am no stickler for the comforts of the 
flesh. 

(Returns to settle and sits.) 

Belden. (sitting betzueen the deacon and the 
bundle) Did you say you had something of im- 
portance to communicate to me? 

Deacon. Ay, several matters. The first con- 
cerns the children of our late revered pastor. There 
is need of more control over them. Their escapades 
occasion much censure throughout the village. It 
is your place, as the only man in this household 



i8 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

(Tom gives an indignant bounce. Belden looks- 
terrified) to discipline them. They need a strong 
hand, Mr. Belden, a strong hand. 

(Betty, behind the settle, doubles up with 
laughter.) 

Belden. I beg your pardon, sir, but would you 
not like to discuss this subject elsewhere? 

Deacon. Where else should we discuss it? 

Belden. There is the south parlor. 

Deacon. The women are at work there. Albeit 
I ordinarily have no disinclination to gaze upon 
Goodwife Dearborn, I prefer that she be not present 
when I am obliged to speak of her inability to 
manage her offspring. 

(The deacon gets up and walks about. Belden 
tries to get between him and the bundle and 
settle. When the deacon finally sits dozvn 
again, Belden sinks down on the settle. Betty 
drums lightly with her finger-tips on the back 
of the settle. Belden fidgets nervously.) 

Belden. (with an inspiration) Would you not 
enjoy seeing the garden, Deacon Small? There are 
many flowers and vegetables well advanced there. 
We may walk about and talk comfortably. 

Deacon, (reprovingly) I have no desire to walk 
about, Mr. Belden. (pounding the floor with his 
stick) The wind hath changed and my rheumatism 
troubleth me. Besides, unknown dangers lurk in 
the tree-tops, (the bundle vibrates. Pointing to 
bundle) What is that? 

Belden. (with assumed carelessness) Methinks 
'tis something belonging to Goodwife Dearborn. 

(Betty claps her hands.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 19 

Deacon, (solemnly) An I were not a sober man, 
Mr. Belden, I would have thought that bundle 
moved. Tis a strange way to leave it. I had 
thought Good wife Dearborn a better housekeeper. 

(Belden tries to think of something to say in 
defence of Goodwife Dearborn, but cannot.) 



Belden. And the other matters of importance, 



sir: 



Deacon, (waxing eloquent as he recalls his 
wrongs) Such laxity as you have shown, Mr. 
Belden, is most reprehensible. The deviltry of those 
children passes belief. 

Belden. (trying to appease him) Nay, sir, they 
are but innocently happy. It is natural for the 
young to be high spirited. 

Deacon. Innocently happy, forsooth! (gets up 
and waves his stick) Only this morning did 
Thomas hook my new peruke from off my pate and 
wantonly allow it to be blown away. Innocently 
happy ! Do you realize that the peruke was bran- 
new? I paid for it fifteen good shillings' worth of 
wheat and it was mine but for a day. 

(Betty chuckles.) 

Belden. I will speak seriously to Tom about it. 

(Bundle begins to move toward the door.) 

Deacon. And now about the girl. Do you pur- 
pose to marry her? 

Belden. (utterly bewildered) I beg your 
pardon, Deacon Small. 

' Deacon, slowly and clearly) Do you purpose 
to marry Elizabeth Dearborn? 

(Expressions of great surprise on Belden's face 
and also on Betty's.) 



20 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Belden. (uncertainly) Is there not some topic, 
Deacon Small, something more important — of more 
general interest? 

Deacon. Naught can be of more general interest, 
Mr. Belden, than the minister's choice of a wife. 
We will come to other topics in good time. Are you 
intending to marry the wench? 

Belden. (surprised and puzzled) Why I — 
(pauses) Really, Deacon Small, really, you know — 
She is but a child. 

Deacon. She hath passed seventeen. My 
mother was married at sixteen. An she be not 
careful, Elizabeth Dearborn will be an old maid. 

Belden. (trying to put the deacon off) She doth 
not care for me, belike. 

Deacon. Tis a maid's duty to marry the 
man that offers. I doubt not, John Belden, that 
she would be glad enough to get you. (Betty 
shakes her fist at the deacon) Since you have been 
dispensing your gifts among us, the maids of the 
church have vied together for your favor, yet you 
have paid court to none of them. You are best 
acquainted with Elizabeth, perhaps because she 
liveth beneath the same roof. I have been asked to 
come to you as a delegate, seeking knowledge of 
your intentions. 

(The bundle disappears out of the door.) 

Belden. I had not thought of marrying anyone. 

Deacon. " It is not good that man should be 
alone." 

Belden. But since you have suggested it 

Deacon. Suggested it ! I am but warning you 
against it. I am commissioned to inform you that 
the deacons and elders of this church will not permit 
you to take her to wife. The matter has been dis- 
cussed with much candor and directness at every 
fireside in the village. On the day when you and 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 21 

Elizabeth Dearborn are called in meeting, the church 
will consider that you no longer desire to be settled 
here. 

Belden. I could not marry Elizabeth and hope 
to be called to this ministry? 

Deacon. It hath been decided by unanimous con- 
sent that you cannot. 

Belden. But wherefore? What is there wrong 
in the child? 

Deacon. She hath laid herself open to censure 
in a score of ways. She rompeth and playeth 
pranks with her brother as though she were a boy. 
She climbeth trees and swimmeth. She is not meek 
and gentle as a maid should be. 

(Betty makes a face.) 

Belden. Verily, I cannot quietly hear you 
denounce her thus. If she giveth the appearance of 
light-mindedness, 'tis only the appearance. It is as 
easy for her to laugh as it is to breathe. Nothing 
can subdue her spirits for long. 

Deacon, (dryly) I have remarked that, Mr. 
Belden. Her father hath not been in his grave a 
twelve-month and she never referreth to him, 
whereas his name is ever on her dear mother's lips. 

Belden. Ay, but her mother already purposeth 
to marry again. Betty remembereth her father with 
reverence and cherisheth his memory with affection. 
Yet that proves not that she doth not miss him 
sorely. What you condemn as lightness is no more 
her true character than the ripples which the wind 
lifts on the surface of the Connecticut are the cur- 
rent of the river. 

Deacon. I perceive that it was high time for me 
to speak to you upon this subject, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. Doth it not occur to you, Deacon Small, 
that I would have a better chance to regulate 



22 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Elizabeth's conduct, had I the authority of a hus- 
band over her? 

(Betty looks blank.) 

Deacon. She is in no way fit for the manifold 
duties of a minister's wife. You have heard the 
decree of the deacons, Mr. Belden. (he rises to go) 
If you disobey, your ministry here is at an end. 
(goes u. c. ) There is one thing more, Mr. Belden. 
It hath been suggested by the deacons and elders 
that it would be as well if your sermons could be 
made a little more fiery, (at door r.) A little 
more fire and brimstone, Mr. Belden, a little more 
fire and brimstone. 

(Belden crosses to door r.) 

Belden. (meaningly) I would see you safely 
out, sir. (exeunt r.) 

(Betty comes out from behind the settle and 
stretches herself.) 

Betty. Methinks the man was mad ! I marry 
a minister! (ni'unicing the deacon) " I doubt not, 
John Belden, that she would be glad enough to get 
you." Glad, forsooth! Are there no others? 
Hath not the Reverend John Cotton himself said 
that the only cheap things in New England are milk 
and ministers? 

(She stands still for a moment. As she starts for 
the door, she comes face to face with John. 
Both arc ill at case.) 

Belden. Betty! 

Betty, (dramatically, but with a [race of nervous- 
ness) I prithee let me pass. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 23 

(She laughs, but there is no mirth in her laughter.) 
Belden. {uncertainly) Betty! 

{They look at each other.) 

Betty. Hath not the deacon spoken? 

Belden. Ay, the deacon, but — What hath come 
over thee? {he puts his hands on her shoulders) 
Have you grown up in a day? {he looks at her 
intently, half to himself) " Why art thou cast 
down? " 

Betty. Let me go! 

Belden. Nay. Can I let go what I have not? 

Betty. Let me go ! Please! Phate 

Belden. Say it not. {looks at her) Is it the 
truth, or is it 

(Looks deep into her eyes.) 

Betty, {triumphantly and gladly) It is not true! 

a 
(She wrenches herself free. Enter Sylvester l. ) 

David. What is this, a game of hide and seek? 

Betty, {feverishly) Nay, David, 'tis a game of 
forfeits and the forfeit is too great. (Belden looks 
pleadingly at her, but as she is obdurate, he goes out 
r. Trying to be her old self) How is Experience, 
David? Didst thou see her to-day? 

David. Yea, that I did. Her mother was from 
home and it seemed a rare opportunity to converse 
with her but {sighing) the event proved differently. 

Betty, (laughing rather hysterically) How was 
that? 

David, {gloomily) Betty, she doth not love me. 
I have hardly seen her for some months, and the 
first thing she exclaimed at sight of me was " Oh, 



24 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

David, David, farewell. My mother will not hear 
of thee." 

Betty. That would but be because she would 
conceal her real feelings. Dost not know that a 
maid may not wear her heart on her sleeve? 

David, (in surprise) This from thee, Betty, 



whose heart is as light as- 



Betty. As my head, meanest thou? 

David, (looking conscious) Nay, not that. But 
that thou, ever with a smile on thy lips, a dimple 
in thy cheek and a quip on thy tongue's end, 
shouldst hint of hidden griefs, thou who art as open 
as the day. 

(He laughs, genuinely amused.) 

Betty, {pretending to laugh zvith him) 'Tis 
indeed monstrous amusing! Why, I am as easy 
to read as a book, a book written in — Sanskrit. 

David, (still thirsting for sympathy) An thou 
wert in love with me, would thy mother's will make 
aught of difference? 

Betty. An I loved a man, naught would make 
any difference. I would say to him, " David " or 
" James " or " John " — 'tis most likely his name 
would be John, for 'tis such a common name. I 
would say to him, " John, I have grown up in a 
day. I have been a child, but now I am a woman. 
I take my birthright : the right to love, to suffer and 
to sacrifice." 

David, (sententiously) Ay, to leve is indeed to 
sacrifice, (dejectedly) She would not suffer me 
to kiss her. 

Betty, (pretending disbelief) Nay, 'tis not pos- 
sible ! What woman would give up the man she 
loved. It could not be, could it, David? (laughs) 
Perchance it were a good thing she did not suffer 
thee to kiss her. An someone had seen you. you 
would have been haled before the magistrates. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 25 

Goodwife Parsons was narrating only this morning 
how her manservant and maidservant were seen 
kissing each other. They sat on the kitchen chest. 
It was a matter of twenty shillings to the man, ten 
to the maid. 

David. Twenty shillings were a small price to 
pay for a kiss. 

Betty. There are kisses — and kisses. And some 
are. never given. 

David. True, some are taken. 

Betty. Go back to Experience, David. Methmks 
you must have misunderstood her. I would see you 
happy. 

David, (heartily) And I thee. But I need not 
wish you happiness, Betty. 

Betty. Nay, thou needst not wish me happiness. 

David. Betty, thou hast said that I am dull and 
thou' art right. Yet I perceive thou art greatly 
troubled. If I did not know thy lightness of heart, 
I would say thou hast been crying. 

Betty. I ? Never ! 

(Laughs.) 

David. Why shouldst thou not, dear Betty? 
Methinks it is right and becoming in a woman to 
cry. And it maketh us to stand the straighten 

(Sound of horn outside.) 

Betty. May not then a man- 



David. Men do not show their hurts. 
(Enter Tom r.) 

Tom. Mother says to come to dinner. We are 
going to have a pigling, David. 

David. Tis well. I have a great yearning for 
food. Hast thou, Thomas? 



26 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Tom. I will be glad to taste the pigling. 

David. Coming, Betty? 

Betty. I will come presently. 

Tom. (dragging David out) And we are to have 
stewed squash and turnip and Lunenburg pudding ! 
(exeunt r. ) 

(Betty looks around the room as if saying good- 
bye to it.) 

Betty. I will not stand in the way of his success. 
(she goes over to the table where Belden's papers 
are and touches them gently) " Why art thou cast 
down? " Oh, he doth love me ; I saw it in his eyes. 
If he thought he saw love in my eyes, I'll show 
him he was wrong. (she stands very straight) 
" Men do not show their hurts," David hath said. 
Oh, God, help me to be a man ! 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



Scene I: — Outside Goodwife Dearborn's house. 
A watchman is seen passing at rear during the 
scene. Enter David and Experience from the 
house. 

David, (uneasily) Experience, what is this talk 
concerning Betty which I heard as I came through 
Northampton ? 

Experience. It is rumored that she will be 
called before the magistrates for breaking of the 
Sumptuary Laws. 'Tis said that her clothes do not 
befit her station. 

David. Poor little Betty! 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 27 

Experience. Oh, it will not trouble Betty. Re- 
proof runneth off her like water off a duck. 

David. Mayhap the rumor is a falsetone. 

Experience. Mayhap it is. (pouting) Thou 
takest a great interest in Betty. I trow thou art 
more than half in love with her. 

David. I can ill spare any more love than what 
I give thee, Experience, (he puts his arm around 
her) But I would see everyone as happy as we are. 

Experience. Were Betty unhappy, she would 
betray it. She hath never learned the art of hiding 
any thought which cometh into her head, (zvith 
becoming modesty) Why, she hath often said to 
me, " I am not deep like thee, Experience." 
'David. There is no one like thee. 

(Betty appears in the door r. zvith basket.) 

Betty. Do I come amiss? (Experience and 
David start apart) An Goodwife Parsons could 
only see you now ! 

Experience. She would say of thee, David, as 
she hath often said before, that thou art a rag on 
every bush. 

Betty. I'll say this for thee, David, thou art at 
least a well-appearing rag. 

(David bows.) 

David. We would tell thee a secret, Betty. 

(They go over to her.) 

Betty. Experience's parents have not con- 
sented ? 

David. No such good news, and therefore we 
will wait no longer. To-night we purpose to run 
away. 

Betty, (aghast) Run away! 



28 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

David. And be married in the next parish. I 
must be at home on Wednesday, and I intend to see 
Experience safely to Hartford. 

Betty. But Experience, art sure it is best to 
deceive thy parents so? 

Experience. That thou sl.ouldst preach of filial 
duty ! When thou didst steal goods from thy 
mother wherewith to make thyself a frock. 

Betty. Nay, Experience, I would never have 
worn the frock, unless she had suffered me. An it 
were not right, 'twas naught so irretrievable as this. 
I could have rent the dress into shreds, an Mother 
had bade me, but thou canst never rid thyself of 
David once thou art married to him. 

David. I trust she will not rend me into shreds. 

Experience, (whimpering) I do not wish to rid 
myself of David. 

David. What can have come over thee, Betty? 
Hast thou lost thy taste for adventure? I vow 
thou art as bad as the deacon. 

Experience. I know that my parents will con- 
sent when they see that my heart is set on David. 

Betty. Hast thou no fear of the law? Dost not 
remember how Arthur Dudley was prosecuted by 
Thomas Denison for " disorderly and unrighteously 
endeavouring to gain the affections of his daugh- 
ter? " It cost poor Arthur £5. 

(She goes up into the garden.) 

David. £5 ! Experience is worth her weight in 
Pine Tree Shillings. When the village hath gone 
to church, I will stand here by the tree. Mayhap 
it were better that I make no noise. 

Experience. I will be waiting, David, (exit) 

(Enter Belden from house. He comes down the 
steps and starts u. c Betty motions to Ex- 
perience who carries the basket to him.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 29 

Experience. Mr. Belden! 

Belden. Didst wish me, Miss Experience? 

Experience, (giving him the basket) Betty 
sends this for you to take to the sick lady you are 
to call upon. 

Belden. Ah, for old Abigail, who is most 
wretched. Miss Betty sent it? That was good of 
her. I thank her gratefully, (exit c.) 

Experience, {returning d. c. Betty comes d. l. 
c. ) He was delighted! 

Betty. Was he truly? Why should I not send 
a basket to the sick. Thou knowest, Experience, 
that I did it only because my father used to do so. 
It is my duty. 

Experience. Hast thou ever done it before? 

Betty. The more reason why I should remem- 
ber my duty when I come to be aware of it. (she 
sits down on the steps) Experience, how doth it 
seem to be betrothed? 

Experience. It seemeth perilous enough when 
my parents are opposed to it. 

Betty. But is it not a joy just to know that 
David loveth thee? 

Experience. Yea, verily. It hath all the charms 
of the forbidden. 

Betty. 'Tis a strange world, Experience. An a 
man care for thee, thy parents will have none of 
him : an thy parents wish thee to wed a man, he will 
have none of thee. 

Experience. My parents suffered me to come 
hither in order to captivate Mr. Belden and it is 
naught to either of us an we never meet again. 
(in a superior tone) Thou dost not know what it 
meaneth to be in love. (Betty laughs, then sings) 
Elkanah doth not like Mr. Belden. 

Betty. Oh ? 

Experience. He saith he thinketh over-highly 
of himself. 

Betty. Elkanah hath some chronic ailment! 



30 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Experience. He hath a chronic attachment for 
this place. Here he is. 

(Enter Elkanah c.) 

Elkanah. Betty, I have something to say to 
thee. 

(Experience withdraws.) 

Betty. I must get supper for Tom. 

Elkanah. Nay, thou must listen. 

Betty. Tom loseth his temper when I am late. 

Elkanah. Betty, I am in sore trouble. 

Betty. I am sorry, Elkanah. (turns azvay) 

Elkanali. Dost wish to bring sorrow to thy 
mother, Betty? Knowest thou that there are those 
in Northampton who disapprove of thee? 

Betty. I know. What will they do? 

Elkanah. I cannot bear to tell thee, Betty. 

Betty. Dost think it will frighten me? 

Elkanah. Thou knowst the sumptuary laws. 

Betty. Elkanah, thou knowst in thy heart I am 
not really sinful. Wilt thou give assurance to the 
authorities? Why dost thou hesitate? Should not 
a friend uphold another who is wronged? Answer 
me neighbor! 

Elkanah. I can, as thou sayest, give assurance 
to the authorities. My position could answer for 
thee — the position of thy husband. 

Betty. What ? 

Elkanah. They would not question thee more. 

Betty. Thou art trifling. No, I see thou art 
most horribly earnest. Thou art saying this to 

Elkanah. To save thy family the disgrace of 
thy arrest. 

Betty. Ah, how high and noble of thee, 
Elkanah ! Will not thy word, thy oath, save me the 
disgrace? Wherefore needst to be my husband? 
Tell me that ! 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 31 

Elkanah. Tis true I am most willing to take 
thee. 

Betty. Willing! Elkanah, it is a plot of thine 
own devising. Thou wouldst make a bargain with 
me. 

Elkanah. Betty! 

Betty. Thou wouldst fright me into taking thee. 

Elkanah. No, I know thou art afraid of noth- 
ing. 

Betty. Then why? 

Elkanah. But I had thought thou didst hold 
family honor above thine own pleasure. True, most 
maids would marry whom they please ; my own 
sister will do so. But I thought thee finer than 
that, finer even than Experience. I trusted thou 
wouldst not let thy mother and thy little brother 
and thy good father's memory all to be darkened by 
the charges against thee. 

Betty. Elkanah, thou art the brother of my 
friend, but yet I will say what is in my heart. I 
believe thou canst tell the truth to the authorities 
in Norhampton and prevent the summons that thou 
warnest me of. There is evil in thy heart, evil — 

Elkanah. Thou dost mistake. If thou wilt only 
trust me 

Betty. Yes, to fly away with thee as Experience 
will with David? 

Elkanah. Why not? In truth, I had the pro- 
posal on my lips. 

Betty. Neighbor Parsons, I will not talk with 
thee more, only to say this : thou mayest have me 
summoned to the court and unfairly accused. It is 
better to bring innocent grief to my mother and 
name, even to lose the opportunity of wedlock, than 
to give my vows to a man I do not even trust. 
Good even. 

(Exit r.) 



32 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Elkanah. Good even to thee, Betty, (pause) 
I shall have need of more evidence. 

(Enter Tom d. l.) 

Tom. I have something to show you, Elkanah. 
(draws out rouge-stick) It is Betty's new drawing 
pencil. 

Elkanah. That is not a drawing pencil; 'tis 
a rouge-stick. 

Tom. A what? 

Elkanah. It is rouge, wherewith fine ladies 
redden their cheeks when they wish to look pretty. 

Tom. That is what the savages do. Doth it 
come off? 

Elkanah. In course it doth. Hast thou not yet 
tried it? Thou art afraid to use it belike? Thou 
dost not dare paint Betty, Tom? 

Tom. I do not? Thou art mistaken, Elk. 
I will do it now. 

Elkanah. That doth not come amiss. 

(Shouts heard from house. Church bells begin to 
ring. Enter Deacon c.) 

Deacon, (waving stick) There, there! Even on 
Sabbath nights this corner is not free from ungodly 
sounds. 

Elkanah. Ah, Deacon! All this even have I 
been sorely smitten by the like cause. Neighbor 
Dearborn's lot is a grievously sorry one. Had we 
not thy bulwark of a conscience among us, this 
entire village would be lost to Satan. 
^ Deacon. I have indeed tried to reason with the 
Goodwife's offspring and I hope good results may 
come of it. 

Elkanah. At least, deacon, there is no doubt 
concerning thy great influence at the meeting to- 
night. A word from thee and the minister will be 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 33 

forbidden — (pause and gestures) I have grave news 
from Northampton. Might I have a word with 
thee, deacon? 

Deacon. To be sure, friend Parsons, to be sure. 

(Enter Tom r.) 

Tom. I want no more supper, Betty. Come and 
swing. (Betty appears at the door) Methinks thy 
color is very good. 

Betty. I hope it will come off, truly 

Tom. (goes to szving) Pump, Petty. Do it to 
the music from the primer. 

Betty. Yea, Tom. (sings) 

" Zaccheus, he 
Did climb a tree 
Our Lord to see." 

Now let us sing from the beginning. 

Both. " In Adam's fall 

We sinned all." 

Deacon, (pounding the ground with his stick) 
Ah-hem ! Ah-hem ! 

Betty, (rising) Good even, Deacon Small. 
Would you like to swing? 

Deacon. Do not be pert, Elizabeth. Where is 
Mr. Belden? 

Betty. He went away- directly after supper to 
make a pastoral visit. 

Deacon. And where is thy mother? 

Betty. Within. 

(Enter Goodwife Dearborn from the house.) 

G. D. Good even, Deacon Small. Is it time to 
start for the meeting? 

(Deacon crosses.) 



34 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. A meeting to-night, Mother? 

G. D. Yea, an extra meeting to decide about Mr. 
Belden's call. Dost know whither he went? 

Betty. He hath gone to visit old Moses' wife, 
who is sore oppressed with the king's evil. When 
he returneth, I will tell him to hasten to the meet- 
ing. 

G. D. That is just what thou art not to do. 
Thou must keep him at home, for the townsfolk 
wish to consult together, uninfluenced by his 
presence. 

Betty, (eagerly) Will they retain him, Mother? 

G. D. Do not be curious, child. 

Deacon. I am glad to hear you reprove her, 
Goodwife Dearborn. 

G. D. (meekly) Verily, Deacon Small, I am oft 
times tried beyond my strength. 

Deacon. You have need of a strong man's hand 
to guide you and an arm to lean upon. 

G. D. I know that full well, Deacon Small. At 
times I long to have my dear husband at my side 
once again, (sighs) 

Betty. That would be somewhat inconvenient 
for the deacon, would it not? 

G. D. Do not lay it up against her, I beg of you, 
Deacon Small. She doth not think what she saith. 

Deacon. Elizabeth, it grieveth my eyes to see 
thee clad thus, and but now thou didst offend mine 
ears with ungodly music. 

(Enter people going to church.) 

Betty. Do you not like my frock, Deacon small ? 
I wore it last week during my stay in Northampton. 

Deacon. I can see in it the hand of Satan 
tempting you, Mercy Dearborn. How vain are the 
pursuits of men! (enter many villagers who stand 
and murmur as the Deacon speaks) Gratification 
of the senses, riches, honor, learning, engage their 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 35 

thoughts and occupy their minds, instead of prepara- 
tion for the rapacious death which cometh to all 
when least we anticipate it. I have lived sixty 
years last Tuesday and I reflected on arising that I 
have seen enough of the sinfulness of the world and 
of men and women to prevent my desiring to live 
another sixty. 

Betty, (solemnly) 'Tis most unlikely that you 
will. 

(The villagers are shocked. Goodwife Dearborn 
and Deacon look shocked. Exeunt r.) 

Tom. (mimicing Deacon) Do not be pert, 
Elizabeth. 

(Constable enters u. r. and crosses.) 

Betty. Come, Tom, 'tis nearing thy bed-time. 
(goes up r. to door) Come. 

(Exit Tom following slowly. The church bell still 
rings. Enter David d. l.) 

David, (calling softly) Betty! 

Betty, (from upper window) Yea, David, we 
are coming. Wait till the watchman hath passed. 
(pause) 

Experience. Betty, look ! Who is that coming 
down the road ? Go and see, David. 

David, (looks) Methinks 'tis Mr. Belden. 

Betty. Quick then. Now you must go. 

(She disappears from the window They enter 
below, r.) 

Experience. Good-bye, dear Betty. 
David. Wouldst rot have me ask Mr. Belden to 
carry thee off ?.s well? 



36 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. Sh! 

David. Thou must come to Hartford, Betty. 

(exeunt) 

(Enter John.) 

Belden. Why, Betty! (her expression shows 
that she has heard, but she does not turn or answer) 
Betty. 

Betty, (rising and speaking very formally) 
Good even, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. It was kind of thee to send the basket 
to poor Abigail. She was in dire need of food. 
How didst thou know ? 

Betty. It is the duty, surely, of a minister's 
daughter to care for the sick. 

Belden. A minister's — daughter? Betty, what 
hath comeiover thee of late? I never, see thee alone. 
Have I done aught to offend thee ? 

Betty. Nay, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. Once 'twas " John." 

Betty. I have said many foolish things in my 
youth. 

Belden. In thy youth! What hath taken thy 
youth away? Dost thou remember the day the 
deacon came? 

Betty, (pretending to misunderstand) The 
deacon ! What day doth he not come ! He is ever 
under foot. 

Belden. The day I looked into your eyes and 
saw — Betty, did I mistake? Did I mistake? 

Betty, (slowty and as if weighing her zvords) 
An you saw aught in my eyes save your own 
reflection, I tell you you did mistake. 

Belden. (bitterly) I am sorry. 

(Starts up the step.) 
Betty. Mr. Belden. when a srirl loveth a man 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 37 

and he loveth her, could it ever be right for her to 
disobey her parents and wed him — to elope? 

Belden. It seemeth to me that when two people 
love one another, an it be not morally wrong, they 
should suffer naught to come between them. An 
the woman I loved loved me— — 

Betty, (quickly) Yes. 

Belden. I would defy the world for her sake. 

Betty. (incredulously but with admiration) 
You — a minister ! 

Belden. Mayhap I am not truly a minister. 

Betty. But you have ever told me that I should 
obey my mother in all things. 

Belden. Yea. (a look of comprehension passes 
over his face) Betty, thou dost not mean — 
Sylvester! I passed him as I came here. He was 
so deep in thought that he did not see me. You — 
(he goes over and takes her by the shoulders) Is it 
Sylvester ? 

Betty, (frightened and misunderstanding) Yes, 
'tis David. 

(Belden stares at her.) 

Belden. So that was why! 
Betty. I do not understand. 

(Voices are heard outside. Betty runs into the 
house. Bustle and noise. Enter villagers with 
Goodwife Dearborn and Deacon, c. ) 

Deacon. Peace, Peace ! This is ungodly 
language. 

G. D. Of what avail is it to say " Peace, peace " 
when one is at her wits' end as I am ? Oh, I would 
that my husband were here ! 

Belden. What is it, Goodwife Dearborn? 

G. D. I have but just learned how they forbade 



38 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

you to think of Elizabeth as your wife and it doth 
cut me to the heart. Oh, the insult of it ! 

Belden. {dejectedly) Elizabeth careth naught 
for me. 

G. D. {kindly) Tis not against you that I am 
inflamed, Mr. Belden. Verily, it is for you as well 
as for my child. You should have heard the discus- 
sion to-night. It was decided to call you to the 
ministry here, with no praise of your labor what- 
ever, but only a warning as to your conduct con- 
cerning Elizabeth. Yet they were not niggardly in 
their commendation of you. It was said that the 
lads' love for you is the strongest factor in ruling 
their behaviour ; that your untiring care 

Deacon, {interrupting) Mercy Dearborn, do 
you not know that it was decided to say naught of 
this to Mr. Belden's face? Even a Christian 
minister is affected by flattery. 

G. D. An you had censure to bestow, you would 
not stint it. 

{She goes up the steps.) 

Deacon. It is true, as Goodwife Dearborn saith, 
that you are called to the ministry among us, on the 
condition which you understand. Do you agree to 
that condition? 

Belden. {miserably) I do. 

Deacon. I rejoice at your decision, Mr. Belden. 
We should have been sorry to lose you. And now, 
as the wind bloweth chill, I must wend my way 
homeward. Good-night. 

Belden. Good-night, Deacon Small. 

{He goes up stage with deacon.) 

Deacon, {going to gate c.) But who is that com- 
ing on the lame horse? Methinks 'tis someone I 
should know. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 39 

Belden. I know him not. 

Deacon. My faith, 'tis the Northampton con- 
stable. 

(Enter from u. r., Constable coming c.) 

Constable. Is this the dwelling of the Widow 
Dearborn? 

Belden. It is. 

Constable. I have a summons for her daughter 
Elizabeth. 

(All gasp " Elizabeth " and " Betty.") 

Betty. I am she. 

Constable. Thou atr bidden to appear before 
the magistrates of Northampton in the meeting 
house on Tuesday next for breaking of the 
Sumptuary Laws. 

G. D. Who art thou? 

Constable. I am the constable of Northampton. 

G. D. I will not suffer my daughter to be sum- 
moned to court, (she begins to cry. Betty com- 
forts her) Oh, Tom, would that thou wert large 
enow to protect thy sister. 

Tom. (in the door, waking up sufficientlyytopgrasp 
the situation) Will they put Betty in the pillory? 

(1 Vails long and loud.) 

Belden. No, Tom, they will not hurt her. 

(Exit Constable.) 

G. D. It shameth me, Mr. Belden, that you 
should have been a witness to such a painful scene. 
As for you, Epaphrus Small, an my daughter is not 
good enow for a minister, then is her mother not 
good enow for a deacon. 



4 o PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

(She goes up the steps.) 

Deacon, (trying not to show his real disappoint- 
ment) A pretty muddle we have here, John Belden, 
a pretty muddle ! 

(Exit c. dejectedly.) 

Belden. I comprehend it not at all. It seemeth 
like an evil spite. Betty, I need not tell thee that 
when Tuesday cometh I will be there to speak for 
thine honor and to save thee. 

Betty. What wilt thou do? An thou shouldst 
save me, who would be there to save thee ? 

Belden. Verily, that concerneth me not. 

Betty. But it concerneth me. 

Belden. Child, "he that loseth his life shall 
save " 



Betty. But what of him that loseth his parish? 
Oh, thou knowest how I am looked upon here. 
They would no longer have thee for their minister. 

Belden. Then it pleaseth God to call me else- 
where. There awaiteth great work on the frontier. 

Betty. No, oh, no, John. Thou must not go. 
I — why come to the meeting? Have I not David? 
David will protect me. 

Belden. Even thy — even he cannot speak per- 
chance with the authority of thy minister. 

Betty. Ah 

Belden. The colony doth wrong thee, child. It 
is my duty to point out the error of their evil 
opinion. 

Betty. Do not come, I beg thee. I 

Belden. Oh, my dear, thinkest thou it were hard 
to lose a parish, when compared with losing thee? 

CURTAIN. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 41 



ACT II. 

Scene II : — Northampton Meeting House. The 
sexton enters, carrying keys, and opens the 
shutters. He ushers in Deacon Small who 
looks apprehensively behind him. Enter the 
Magistrate and Elkanah Palsons. 

Magistrate. Ah, Epaphrus Small, {they shake 
hands) Thou art come to the trial? 

Deacon, {mourn f idly) Yea, Jonathan. 

Magistrate. What aileth thee? 

Deacon. Verily, she would not speak to me once 
during the entire journey. 

Magistrate, {puzzled) Of whom speakest thou, 
Epaphrus ? 

Deacon. Of whom but Goodwife Dearborn of 
Hatfield? 

Magistrate. And why would she not speak to 
thee? 

Deacon. She saith that I am to blame because 
Elizabeth is summoned to court for breaking of the 
Sumptuary Laws. 

Magistrate. Was then Elizabeth Dearborn 
betrothed to the minister? 

Deacon. Nay, I did but warn him against it. 

Magistrate. Methinks thou didst hardly take 
the surest means of keeping them apart. 

Deacon, {doggedly) I did but do my duty. 

{Enter first part of mob.) 

Magistrate, {kindly) That I know, Epaphrus. 
{smiling) It is a matter of regret that thine in- 
clinations and thy duty should become involved with 
the same family. 



42 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Deacon, (shaking his head mournfully) I would 
the girl had been some other woman's daughter. 
(earnestly) How gladly would I believe Elizabeth 
to be quiet, thoughtful and obedient like her dear 
mother, but my conscience forbids. I know her to 
be frivolous 

Magistrate. Thou 'hadst best save thine evi- 
dence for the court. 

Deacon. Your pardon, Jonathan. But verily, I 
have done my best to spare the Goodwife this dis- 
grace. 

Elkanah. He hath reasoned with Elizabeth on 
all occasions. He hath rebuked her, pointed out to 
her the error of her ways and tried to convince her 
that she is on the road to perdition, but 'twas all in 
vain. 

Magistrate. Didst ever hear the story of the 
contest between the sun and the wind, Epaphrus? 

Deacon. Nay, I mind it not. 'Tis not in the 
Bible. 

Magistrate. Nay, he who wrote it was a pagan, 
but methinks his writings are not without merit. 
(he goes toward the door) It is high time that I 
prepared me for the trial, (exit l. ) 

(The Constable goes to the door r. and leaning out, 
rings the bell.) 

Constable. Hear ye! Hear ye! All persons 
having anything to do before this honorable court, 
draw near, give your attention. God save the king! 

(The deacon goes r. and sits down. Enter Good- 
wife Dearborn, Betty, Tom and Lucie. 
Lucie sits near the back. Betty zcears a long 
gray cloak. She bozvs to the deacon but Good- 
wife Dearborn and Tom pointedly ignore him. 
He wilts visibly. When they are seated, enter 
Goodwife Parsons. She sits in front of the 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 43 

Dearborns and turns around to speak to 
them.) 

G. P. Let us mourn together, Mercy Dearborn. 
Verily I do feel now how keen must be thy suffer- 
ing. I understand since my Experience ran away 
what it is to have an ungrateful child. 

G. D. Silence Parsons, do not so speak to me. 
Elizabeth's wrongdoing was without intention. 
{pause) And yet be my friend, Silence. We have 
sore need of friends now. {she begins to cry. 
Then her curiosity gets the better of her) What 
dost thou hear from Experience? 

G. P. She and David were wedded the night 
they ran away and they were in Hartford when she 
did write to me. {cries) She saith she is very 
happy. 

G. D. Thou must not feel so badly. David is a 
good lad. 

G. P. Ay, but not good enough for my Ex- 
perience. I had destined her for the minister. 
{weeps again) 

G. D. Belike a higher power had destined her for 
David. 

{The door opens and a sentinel steps in. He stands 
by the door. The suspectors file in and sit 
down. The lazvyer enters and sits down.) 

G. P. I do not see Mr. Belden. 
G. D. He was suddenly called away to a sick 
woman, but he hath promised to come. 
Constable, (rapping) Court! 

{Enter Magistrate l. All rise. The Magistrate 
nods to the Constable.) 

Constable. Be seated! {all sit) 
Magistrate. Elkanah Parsons, be pleased to act 



44 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

as clerk. Elizabeth Dearborn, come forward and 
listen to the charges now to be preferred against 
thee. 

(The Constable comes and brings Betty forward. 
He stands guard over her.) 

Clerk. Thou art here indicted by the name of 
Elizabeth Dearborn on the charge that, not having 
the fear of God before thine eyes and not holding 
a due respect toward the laws of this colony, thou 
hast worn, both here and in thy home in Hatfield, 
silk scarfs, lace above two shillings a yard, a neck- 
lace and a silk garment made with short sleeves. 
Likewise, thou hast been seen with thy face painted. 
Thou hast behaved with frivolity and with a light- 
ness unbefitting a maiden. 

Magistrate. Elizabeth Dearborn, art thou guilty 
or not guilty? (she does not answer) Guilty or 
not guilty? 

Betty. Let the court decide ! 

(Her cloak falls from her and there is a gasp of 
amazement from the assembly. She zvcars her 
silk dress, her scarf and her necklace.) 

Clerk. Hear ye ! Hear ye ! Hear ye ! If anyone 
can inform the Magistrate of any misdemeanors 
committed or done by the accused, let him come 
forth and he shall be heard, for the accused stands 
now at the bar upon her deliverance. 

(No one stirs.) 

Magistrate. Doth no one appear to give evi- 
dence against the accused? (he leans forward and 
whispers to the clerk) Goodwife Parsons. 

(Goodwife Parsons comes forward.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 45 

Meekins. How long have you known the defen- 
dant? 

G. P. All her life. 

Meekins. What was her character? (she does 
not answer) Woman, you must answer truly. 

G. P. It is with reluctance that I speak. She did 
behave in a hoydenish manner. She did disregard 
her mother's admonitions. 

(Goodwife Dearborn bounces angrily.) 

Meekins. Have you observed her otherwise 
than in her own home? 

G. P. Yea, at mine. 

Meekins. How did she conduct herself there? 

G. P. She did romp and play boisterously. 

Meekins. How was she dressed? 

G. P. She wore silk and gay colors in defiance of 
my protests. 

Meekins. How did she, in her mother's poor 
condition, obtain such things? 

G. P. She hath an aunt in Hartford who is most 
lavish with gifts to her. 

Meekins. Were all the things she wore gifts to 
her? 

G. P. No, one silk dress she made from some 
silk belonging to her mother. 

Meekins. Did her mother give her the material ? 

G. P. No, she obtained it by stealth. 

Meekins. Did you ever see her when her face 
was painted? 

G. P. No. 

Meekins. That will do. 

Magistrate. Deacon Epaphrus Small. 

(Goodwife Parsons returns to her seat. The 
Deacon takes the stand. Goodwife Dearborn 
glares at him.) 



46 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Meekins. What do you know of the character 
of Elizabeth Dearborn? 

Deacon. She hath alway been most disrespectful 
to me and to all others in authority. 

Meekins. Have you seen her gaily attired? 

Deacon. I have. 

Meekins. Have you seen her when her face was 
painted ? 

Deacon. Yes, last week. 

Tom. (jumping up) I did it! I did it! 

Magistrate. Thomas Dearborn, come forward. 
(Tom comes forward and stands beside the deacon) 
What is thine evidence? 

Tom. 'Twas I who painted Betty's face. I did it 
with the rouge-stick my aunt sent from Hartford. 
Betty was not even willing to have me do it. 

Magistrate. That will do, Thomas, (he returns 
to his seat) 

Meekins. Was she wont to observe the Sabbath 
day? 

Deacon. Not two weeks ago did I see her one 
Saturday evening playing at catch among the trees 
with her brother, singing, laughing and otherwise 
breaking the Sabbath. 

Meekins. How did she behave on other days? 

Deacon. She did set the primer to music, most 
frivolous music, which she did sing. 

Meekins. That will do. (the Deacon goes back 
to his seat. The door opens and Belden enters. 
He is flushed from exercise and is spattered with 
mud. He does not look like a minister. Betty 
sees him first and trembles) Elizabeth Dearborn, 
according to law I ask thee whether thou art de- 
sirous of pleading thine own cause. An thou findest 
thyself unfit to plead thine own cause in the court, 
thou mayst have " liberty to imploy any man against 
whom the Court doth not except " to help thee, 
provided thou givest him " noe fee or reward for 
his paines." 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 47 

Betty, {her eyes on Belden) I wish for no 
defense. 

Meekins. Then I wish to begin my speech by 
reading those words with which we should all be 
familiar, but which, I grieve to say, many among 
us do not follow, the words of the blessed apostle 
Paul : " I will therefore, that women adorn them- 
selves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and 
sobriety ; not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, 
or costly array." War is disastrous enow, but 
peace is disastrous in that it undermines the mcrals 
of the people, giving them time to turn their 
thoughts to worldly and unlawful things. It is 
evident that Elizabeth Dearborn's way of life has 
not been by any means such as a maiden's should 
be and as is described by the apostle Paul. It has 
been shown that she is unruly, frivolous and fond of 
extravagance. In one case she did not stop at theft 
to obtain her desire. Such a person should be made 
an example. 

{During this speech, Belden has written something 

rtt/i n mtrrl nitrf ri^raii *f in th/7 cr>t/itv\y rroth n 1 



vri a card and given it to the sentry who, 
turn, has given it to the magistrate.) 



■in 



Magistrate. It hath been suggested that, in the 
absence of any counsel for the defense, the minister 
of the defendant be allowed to speak on her behalf. 
Doth anyone in this court except against John 
Belden of Hatfield? . 

Elkanah. {rising) We are not here to listen to 
sermons ! 

Magistrate. Elkanah Parsons, hast thou no 
respect for a man of God? The object of this 
court is justice. Let John Belden come forward. 

(Belden comes forward and faces the assembly.) 

Belden. Honored Magistrate, neighbors of the 



48 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

colony, it hath been said that ye are not here to 
listen unto sermons. Nay, but wherefore are yet 
met together in this house if it be not to put into 
action that which ye have learned from holy scrip- 
ure? 

Neghbors of the colony, forget not that ye are 
solemnly bounden to exercise great Christian con- 
descension towards each other. Also ye are charged 
to uphold the high idea of liberty which in all time, 
praise God, shall be imbibed from our New Eng- 
land. Therefore are ye exhorted to preserve firm- 
ness in opposing every encroachment upon the 
religious and civil privileges of the people of this 
colony. 

As man of God I charge ye regarding this young 
maid — are ye practicing great Christian condescen- 
sion ; are ye upholding the liberty of New England ; 
are ye granting the rightful privileges of the 
colonists ? 

This maid ye have charged with trespass against 
the Sumptuary Laws. The law saith that a woman 
may wear out the clothes which she already hath an 
they have not " immoderate great sleeves or slashed 
apparel." Doth she stand in condemnation of that 
offence? An she doth, gentlemen of the colony, it 
is not she but I, her pastor and our greatly revered 
neighbor, her mother who have offended. For 
albeit the devising of the frock was undertaken 
somewhat in the spirit of mirth, it hath not been 
worn save by consent from both of us. I have 
given the matter most prayerful consideration and it 
hath been disclosed unto me that there is naught 
sinful in a woman's desire for " purple and fine 
linen." Do ye charge me with the breaking of the 
Sumptuary Laws? 

Gentlemen of the colony, I make confession be- 
fore ye all that pondered have I deeply upon the 
brightness of the color wherein this maid is clothed. 
It dazzleth us; it hath the lightness of the poppy 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 49 

and, to a measure, the charm of what is ungodly. 
But, brethren of mine, within the week one most 
pious of your number hath been noted to put on a 
flash of temper as startling and fiery as the color 
before you. I demand of your inmost hearts to tell 
me, is it not a greater sin for the soul to blaze in the 
brilliancy of an unholy fury than for the body to be 
clad in raiment no brighter than a summer rose? 

Further, I charge ye to answer by what right ye 
assert this maid to be frivolous? I am but now 
arrived from a visit upon a poor sick woman. The. 
week past I was upon one evening started to pay 
her a call in her misery, when of her own will and 
thoughtfulness Mistress Elizabeth Dearborn laded 
me with a basket of food and medicine, from the 
receiving whereof old Abigail made great steps to 
recovery. Brethren, mark ye now the providential 
hand of the Lord. The corner house in the street 
called Conney's, toward the north end of the village, 
was set on fire about four in the morn. The middle 
of the roof only was fired for it was discovered by 
an ancient woman rising early and so prevented, 
praised be God. That woman, friends, was Abigail 
Moses, whose new health had bestirred her to go 
about her work at an early hour. Were it not, 
therefore, for the depth of the heart of this young 
woman, where were the preservation of the whole 
village from the furious fangs of fire? Dare ye 
attach to her lightness of character? Dare ye con- 
demn ore who hath proven to be an instrument of 
the Lord? 

Lastly, brethren, I commend ye to our charters, 
the habits it hath engendered, the principles which 
the settlement of the country hath inspired, and in 
all things dreadfully to seek God who many times 
before hath touched your hearts. 

Elk an ah. (angrily) What right hath this man 
to defend this woman ? 



5o PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Belden. (clearly) The right which every man 
hath to defend the honor of the woman he. loves. 

Meekins. What? Mr. Belden, sir, this is un- 
seemly, most unseemly. I should like to ask you, 
sir, do you forget you are a minister ? 

Belden. (sadly) Will ye never learn, my 
brethren? 

(Betty is trembling so that she can hardly stand. 
She reaches down and takes up her long coat. 
She wraps it around her, hiding her dress and 
her jewels. Her obstinate defiance is gone.) 

Magistrate. Hath Elizabeth Dearborn aught to 
say? 

Betty. I throw myself on the mercy of the 
court. 

(The suspectors put their heads together for a 
moment.) 

Magistrate. Have the suspectors agreed upon 
a verdict? 

Suspector. We have. The verdict of the sus- 
pectors is " Not guilty." 

(There is general excitement. Everyone rises. 
Tom rushes to the door.) 

Constable, (rapping) Order! Silence in the 
court-room! (the Magistrate rises and nods to 
the Constable) Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! 
All persons having anything further to do before 
this Honorable Court at present depart and give your 
attendance at this place to-morrow morning at ten 
of the clock, to which time and place this meeting is 
now adjourned. God save the king! 

First Suspector. I have a deal of wood to chop 
before nightfall. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 51 

Second Suspector. My wife hath asked me to 
see to bringing down a heavy chest from the attic. 
This seemeth a most favorable opportunity for so 
doing, (exeunt) 

Magistrate. Thinkest thou she will speak to 
thee now, Epaphrus? 

Deacon. I know not. 

Magistrate. And the lad — 'twas a good speech. 
Youth, red blood, the world before him. Oh, 
Epaphrus, what a cussed thing it is to be a man of 
judgment ! 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

Scene : — Betty and Tom are discovered. Betty is 
working on a sampler. Tom is playing marbles. 

Tom. (coaxingly) Come and play at catch with 
me, Betty, (going over to her) What hath come 
over thee ? Thy diligence appalleth me ! And thou 
art so sad. Why dost thou not jump for joy that 
thou hast escaped the law? (capers about) Thou 
hadst not even to pay anything. Didst mind the 
deacon? Methought his eyes would pop from out 
his head ! 

Betty, (aroused) Ay, tell me, what said the 
deacon ? And the elders ? 

Tom. They did say but little but they did look — 
(doubles up with laughter) I vow they did look 
whole books of scripture. 

Betty, (fearfully) Said they — said they aught 
of Mr. Belden? 

Tom. (carelessly) I know not. 

Betty, (half to herself) And I can do naught 



52 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

for him! (impulsively) Oh, he will lose his 
parish. 

Tom. Wherefore? 

Betty. Because he hath defended me. Because 
of what he said — because — The deacons did for- 
bid him to think of me thus. 

Tom. (with the utmost sang froid) Because he 
hath said that he did love thee? Do not trouble 
thyself, (comfortingly) Belike he did say it but 
to bait the magistrate. 

Betty, (rising indignantly) Nay, ministers do 
not lie. 

Tom. Never? (Betty shakes her head) 
Methinks 'twould be monstrous hard to be a 
minister, (thought f idly) To be a minister's wife 
is but a sorry task. She hath to endure all the 
hardships and the minister too. Thou wouldst have 
had to walk with John down the aisle after meet- 
ing every Sunday in the face of the whole congrega- 
tion. Thou wouldst 

Betty, (rising) Hold thy tongue, Tom! 

Tom. See, thou canst not even bear the mention 
of it. (Betty sits dozen again) When, think you, 
we shall start for Hartford? 

Betty. For Hartford? 

Tom. Ay, did mother not say that we should go 
and live with Aunt Mindwell? 

Betty. I had forgotten. 

Tom. Then can the deacon trouble us no more. 
(plays with marbles) When we go to live in Hart- 
ford, mayhap mother will allow me to go to the 
wolf-hunt, (pause) Art thou not glad that we 
are going to live in Hartford? 

Betty. I will try to be glad. 

Tom. 'Tis said to be a monstrous fine town. 

Betty. Ay, 'twas founded by people from 
Massachusetts. I — I wonder if anyone — I wonder 
if they will miss us, Tom. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 53 

Tom. The deacon will miss us. (chuckles) So 
also will the tithing man. 

Betty, (dejectedly) Methinks the deacons and 
elders will have overmuch spare time when we are 
gone. 

Tom. (confidently) Satan will find " some mis- 
chief still " for their " idle hands to do." 

Betty. I wonder who will live in our house 
and — and who will take care of Mr. Belden. 

Tom. (soothingly) I doubt not Mr. Belden will 
be well taken care of. He will marry some maid of 
the colony. 

Betty. Marry? 

Tom. Ay, why not? (mimics the deacon) "It 
is not good for man to be alone." 

Betty, (half to herself) Marry? 

Tom. Do not all the men of the colony marry? 

Betty. Thou art right, Tom. He will marry 
some maid of the colony, someone who is quiet and 
gentle, — who has never been haled before the 
magistrate — (she goes tozvard the house crying) 

Tom. Why Betty, I did not mean — (Betty goes 
into the house) Betty, Betty! (goes in after her) 

(Enter from the street Goodwife Parsons and 
Goodwife Dearborn. They wear bonnets and 
cloaks. ) 

G. P. 'Twas a most indecent exhibition of feel- 
ing. 

G. D. Thou thinkest 



G. P. To stand up before the whole court and 
say he loved her. 

G. D. But an he did love her 

G. P. That has naught to do with it 'Tis bad 
enough to love, but to say so before the whole 
assembly — 'Twas immodest. I blushed to hear 
him. 

G. D. But they did ask him. 



54 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

G. P. Had they pressed the point, methinks it 
might have been not unmannerly for him to say that 
he had some slight interest in Elizabeth, (both c. ) 

G. D. But if that were not the whole truth? 

G. P. Even a minister rteecletff'not tell all that he 
knoweth. 

G. D. (sighing) Mayhap thou art right, Silence 
Parsons. But it pleaseth me to know that the lad 
hath red blood in his veins. 'Twas a brave speech 
and he risked much to make it. But, an he lose his 
parish because of it, I rejoice that he did make it 
and that the lass he defended was my daughter. 

G. P. 'Twas not a bad speech. He did it with a 
fervor which I have never observed when I have 
heard him preach here. 

G. D. 'Twas because his heart was in it. 

G. P. (scornfully) What hath the heart to do 
with preaching? 

(Goes l. c.) 

G. D. Oft times all too little. Didst mark the 
look in his eyes, Silence? It did mind me of 
Elizabeth's father. 

G. P. (surprised) Of Elizabeth's father? Nay, 
•he was one of the sanest men I have ever known. 

G. D. Can not a man love and still be sane? 

G. P. Why dost thou not ask " May a man not 
be mad and still be sane ? " 

G. D. (smiling) I trow thou hast ne'er beenimad, 
else thou wouldst not speak thus scornfully. 

G. P. Methinks thou art mad at this moment. 

G. D. Thou'rt as bad as a deacon of the church. 

G. P. Thou to speak thus — thou who art to 
marry a deacon ! 

G. D. Nay, Silence ! 'Tis true I did for a brief 
space»Vthink that mayhap — But that is over now. 
Mine eyes were dazzled with the glory of being the 
wife of a deacon, but now I see clearly. I had 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 55 

thought to forget ; the lad hath shown me there is 
something sweeter — to remember. 

G. P. (incredulously) Thou wouldst refuse to 
marry a deacon of the church? 

G. D. (indifferently) I am sick of hearing of 
him. 

G. P. Take care how thou speakest. They will 
duck thee for a scold. 

(Enter the Deacon behind them, unobserved.) 

G. D. 'Twould be worth a ducking to be able to 
tell him what I think of him. 

Deacon. Now is the time, Goodwife Dearborn, 
for thee to embrace thine opportunity, (both turn 
around, surprised. G. P. retreats hastily into the 
garden) 

G. D. (embarrassed but game) Good-day, 
Deacon Small. Which of my household hast thou 
come to hale to court to-day? 

Deacon, (somewhat taken aback) Nay, thou 
dost mistake, Goodwife Dearborn. 

G. D. (dryly) Methinks 'twas thou who didst 
mistake. To drag an innocent child before the 
magistrate ! 

Deacon. But 

G. D. 'Twas a great shock to her. She hath not 
been the same since. 

Deacon. But 'twas not I. I had naught to do 
with it. 

G. D. Nay, thou hadst not the spunk to do it. 
(Deacon gazes at her open-mouthed) An thou 
hadst had the spunk, thou wouldst have done it. 
Are there no men in Hatfield save the minister? 

(Deacon sits down.) 

Deacon. I did but do my duty. 

G. D. Ay, thy duty. Thou dost make an idol of 



56 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

it. What of thy duty to me, whom thou hast called 
friend ? When my daughter stood up in open court, 
where wast thou but on the stand, testifying against 
her? The only person who could say aught in her 
defense was this boy who six months ago was a 
stranger to us. An I speak hotly, Deacon Small, 
remember 'tis because I do feel strongly. I will 
remain no longer, lest I say aught of which I may 
repent me. 

(Goes into the house. The deacon sits with his chin 
on his hands, which clasp his cane. Enter 
along the street the Magistrate. Seeing the 
deacon, he enters.) 

Magistrate. Good morrow, Epaphrus Small. 

Deacon. Good morrow, Jonathan. 

Magistrate. I was on my way to thy house, but 
seeing thee here, I did stop. 

Deacon. Thou comest upon me at an evil time, 
Jonathan. She will do naught but berate me. 

Magistrate. Methinks thy wooing progresseth. 
When last I saw thee, she would not speak to thee 
at all. 

Deacon. An it progresseth, I fear me 'tis back- 
wards. 

Magistrate. Thy methods, Epaphrus, are they 
those which thou hast employed in the case of her 
daughter ? 

Deacon. My late discouragement did drive all 
thoughts of her from my mind. After the recent 
occurrence at Northampton, we did convene a meet- 
ing of the deacons and elders. It was decided that 
although John Belden's (coughs) outburst was 
most lamentable, nevertheless, in view of the 
candidate's youth, it should be overlooked and he 
should still be called to this parish. Twas his dis- 
course which decided us. 'Twas true the subject 
was an unfortunate one, but he did deliver it with a 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 57 

fire which was of a truth a revelation. It was with 
satisfaction that I did mark how he managed his 
thirdly and fourthly. 

Magistrate, {impatiently) Yes, yes, and when 
are the banns to be published? 

Deacon. Whose banns? 

Magistrate. The banns of Elizabeth Dearborn 
and John Belden. 

Deacon, (pounding with his cane) Brr-rrr ! 

Magistrate, (amazed) But John Belden loveth 
the lass. 

Deacon, (dryly) Ay, he did make that most 
uncommon evident. But did I not tell thee that the 
deacons and elders of the church did forbid him to 
marry her? 

Magistrate. Yea, thou didst tell me. Thou 
didst also tell John Belden, but methinks thine 
admonitions were but of little effect. 

Deacon, (impressively) We have spoken. 

Magistrate. So also hath the minister. " The 
end is not yet," Epaphrus Small. 

Deacon. Meanest thou that he will marry her 
anyway? Then shall he be cast out of this parish. 
She is no fit wife for a man of God. 

Magistrate. Thou'rt a hard man, Epaphrus. 

Deacon, (stubbornly) I do but do my duty. 

Magistrate. Thou shouldst know her better 
than I, and yet — Didst thou see her face when he 
did defend her? 

Deacon. Ay, there was in it an unholy joy. 

Magistrate. Thou wilt never remove mountains 
with thy faith, Epaphrus. 

Deacon. The day of miracles is past. I do but 
perform what seerheth to me right. Dost think that 
I enjoy to be looked askance at by Goodwife Dear- 
born? I would that I might believe the girl to be 
what thou seemest to think her. I have no personal 
spite against her; 'tis but a matter of principle. 
Show me that I have misjudged her and I will with- 



58 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

draw my objection and (somewhat proudly) I may 
say that mine opinion is not without weight among 
the deacons and elders. 

Magistrate, (approvingly) Thou speakest fairly. 
An I do not mistake, 'twill be an easy thing to 
prove. We will ask her to come out. (goes over 
and knocks at the door. Lucie comes to the door) 
Is Elizabeth Dearborn within? 

Lucie. Yes, sir. 

Magistrate. I would have speech with her. 

Lucie. Yes, sir. 

(She goes into the house. The Magistrate and 
Deacon show signs of nervousness. Betty 
comes out. ) 

Magistrate. Good morrow, Elizabeth Dearborn. 

Betty. Good morrow, sir. Good morrow, 
Deacon Small. (Deacon is surprised at her quiet 
and dignified manner. Magistrate pokes deacon to 
make him speak but the deacon will not. There is 
an awkward pause) You would have speech with 
me? 

Magistrate. Ay, on a matter of great import. 

(Pokes the deacon again.) 

Deacon, (somewhat at a loss) A matter of the 
greatest import, (clears his throat) 'Tis concern- 
ing John Belden. (Betty starts) The committee 
hath decided to overlook his late indiscretion. But 
there still remaineth in my mind some uncertainty. 
Since his feelings are so strong as to cause him to 
do violence to the proprieties, I doubt not he will 
choose thee without his parish rather than his parish 
without thee. 

Betty. That he must not do ! I did plead with 
him not to defend me, but it was in vain. But it is 
not yet too late. My mother purposeth to remove to 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 59 

Hartford. (Deacon looks blank) I will go with 
her and he shall never see me more. 

Deacon. But he did say before the whole court 
that he did — that he did {coughs) take some slight 
interest in thee. 

Betty, (proudly) Ay, he did say he loved me. 
That canst thou never take away from me. And be- 
cause he was willing to swear " to his own hurt " 
and change not, I care for him too much to spoil 
his life. 

Deacon, (still unable to believe) I marvel at 
thee, Elizabeth. That all the admonitions of the 
men of authority in this parish should be of less 
avail than the " I love thee " of a young whipper- 
snapper. 

(Magistrate gradually retreats up stage.) 

Betty, (smiling a little) Methinks thou hast 
never loved, Deacon Small. 

Deacon, (gloomily) Methinks I have loved 
Deacon Small too much. (Betty looks at him. 
He looks slowly up at her. It dawns on both of 
them that the Deacon has tried to make a joke. She 
begins to laugh, rather hysterically. A smile breaks 
over his face and he tries to laugh, although it is 
hard work. Exit Magistrate) When doth thy 
mother purpose to remove to Hartford? 

(Both stop laughing.) 

Betty. I know not. I hope it will be soon. 

(Grows sadder and sadder.) 

Deacon. Hartford is a long way from here. 
Betty, (dejectedly) Ay. 

Deacon. Hatfield will miss thee. Thinkest thou 
she might be persuaded to change her mind? 



60 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Betty. I trow not. (he, lips begin to quiver) 
Have I not given rrr promise to go ? 

Deacon. Thou makest me co feci that I do drive 
thee out of Hatfield. It ma be that I have been 
mistaken in thee, Elizabeth, (she begins to cry. 
He looks embarrassed, but awkwardly tries to pat 
her arm. She cries harder and cannot find her 
handkerchief. He pulls out his own and gives it to 
her. Then lie slowly and as if afraid of breaking 
her puts his arm around her shoulders. Soothingly) 
I might have known that thy mother's daughter 
could be naught but good, (she still sobs) For 
him to marry anyone else while loving thee, 'twould 
be a sin and " it is not good for man to be alone." 
(she looks up quickly) I am an old man, Elizabeth. 
It hath been borne in upon me of late. I have tried 
to be just, but it may be that there is something- 
higher than justice. 

Betty. I do feel that I have never before ap- 
preciated thee, Deacon Small. 

Deacon, (looking around) I had forgot 
Jonathan, (they go up stage and look down the 
road) I must after him. I would have him help 
me to tell John Belden. 

Betty. Oh, no! No! 

Deacon. We have not yet told him that we have 
decided to overlook his conduct in the Northampton 
meeting house. 

Betty. Oh ! 

Deacon, (mischievously) The rest thou canst 
tell him. 

Betty. Nay, I will not! 

(Exit Deacon dozvn the road. Goodwife Dear- 
born bustles out of the house.) 

G. D. What was the noise I did*near but late? 
It sounded like the cackle of a hen. Was there a 
hawk in the hen-coop? 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 61 

Betty, {looking puzzeld) Belike thou didst hear 
the deacon laugh. 

G. D. Laugh? The deacon? 

Betty. Ay. 

G. D. He knoweth not how to laugh. As for 
thee, an I mistake not, thou hast been weeping. 

Betty. I have both laughed and wept, (begins 
to look embarrassed) Mother, the deacon hath been 
most kind. He did apologize for his conduct to- 
ward me. 

(At the word " Deacon " Goodwife Dearborn's 
face hardens.) 

G. D. Is that all? 

Betty. He did say that being the daughter of 
such a mother, I could be naught but good. 

(G. D. begins to relent.) 

G. D. He did say that, did he ? 

Betty. Ay, and he did say that — he did also 
say 

G. D. Go on ! What aiieth thee, girl ? 

Betty. He did also say that for Mr. Belden to 
marry another when caring for me, would be a sin. 

G. D. (prtending scorn) So of their grace they 
will allow him to marry thee? 

Betty, (timidly) But I can not marry him an 
he doth not ask me. 

G. D. Ask thee ? Perchance I may contrive that 
he will ask thee. 

Betty. No, mother ! Thou shalt not ! 

G. D. I would but give him a slight hint. 

Betty, (commandingly) No! I will be thrown 
at no man's head, (they go tozvards the house) 
Give me my will in this, mother. 

G. D. (ruefully) I vow thou hast not changed 
so much after all ! 



62 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

(They go into the house. Enter from the street 
John Belden, looking very sad. He sits down 
on the bench, taking off his hat. He looks 
wistfully once or twice towards the house, then 
begins to read a learned-looking book which he 
carries. Enter from the street the Deacon 
and the Magistrate. They pause a moment 
and then enter.) 

Deacon. Good day, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. (rising) Good day, Deacon Small. 
Good day, sir. (his air is slightly defiant) Will 
you not come within? 

Deacon. Nay, 'tis not necessary. 

Belden. I prithee come and be seated. 

Deacon. Nay, we must not bide. 

Belden. Can I do aught for you? 

Deacon, (impressively) "We are come to tell 
you that despite your somewhat irregular conduct in 
the Northampton meeting house, you are still to be 
called to be minister of this parish. 

Belden. (stiffly) I thank you. 

Deacon. I — I feel that I have mayhap some- 
what misjudged Elizabeth Dearborn. 

Belden. It doth gratify me to know that you are 
of that opinion. 

Deacon. Your defence of her hath opened my 
eyes. 

Belden. I thought it my duty to correct an 
unjust opinion. 

(Magistrate and Deacon look at each other.) 

Deacon, (craftily) But are you willing to make 
the same promise which was before required of 
you? 

Belden. (sadly) I am. 

(Magistrate and Deacon smile knowingly at each 
other and draw nearer to Belden.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 63 

Magistrate. We have come to say that it is pos- 
sible 

Deacon. That it is in fact most probable 

Magistrate. That it is very likely that you will 
not be called upon to keep that promise. 

Deacon. That it is to be expected that you will 
be released from it. 

(Both stare at Belden, expecting him to show 
surprise.) 

Belden. Do I understand that the church with- 
draws its objection to my taking Elizabeth Dearborn 
to wife? 

Deacon, (beaming) It is most likely that such 
will be the case. 

(They look expectantly at Belden but he says 
nothing.) 

Magistrate, (impatiently) Well, John Belden? 

Belden. What, sir? 

Magistrate. Have you nothing to say ? 

Belden. (civilly) I am much rejoiced that you 
have reached a better understanding of the char- 
acter of a most estimable young woman. 

Deacon. Methinks he doth not yet comprehend, 
Jonathan. 

Magistrate. Suffer me to make it plain to him, 
Epaphrus. John Belden, an you will, you are free 
to marry her. 

Belden. (comprehending) And did you think it 
was the displeasure of the elders which kept me 
from it? You do mistake, my friends. 'Tis not for 
fear of either deacons or elders that I do not marry 
Elizabeth Dearborn. 'Tis because she doth not 
choose me ! 

(Magistrate and Deacon sit down hard on the 
bench.) 



6 4 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Both. What? 

Belden. (dejectedly) Nay, she loveth another. 

(Magistrate and Deacon gasp and sit with mouths 
open.) 

Magistrate. Tis impossible. 

Deacon. Thou didst lure me into this, Jonathan. 

(They gasp again. Then they lean forward.) 

Magistrate. I could have sworn — (gets up) 
Deacon, (getting up) In truth it did appear as 
if 

(Both edge up stage.) 

Both. Good day, Mr. Belden. 
Belden. Good day, sirs. 

Deacon, (as they go out) We did but do our 
duty, Jonathan. 

(Belden gives a long sigh and another glance to- 
wards the house. Then he sits down on the 
bench with his back to the house and begins to 
read. Betty conies out of the house and stands 
for a moment on the porch, looking at Belden. 
She smiles a little.) 

Betty, (to herself) Nay, I'll not do it. 'Tis 
unmaidenly. (takes one step down) An I did it, 
I could never forgive myself, (she steps to the 
ground) 'Tis not even leap year. (she 7valks 
slowly and hesitatingly towards Belden until she 
stands behind him. Speaking almost in his ear) 
Is't not a lovely day? 

(He jumps up, dropping the book. They stare at 
each other.) 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 65 

Belden. (unable to take his eyes off of her and 
speaking slowly) What didst thou ask me? 

Betty. I said 'twas a lovely day. 

Belden. Yea, verily. And thou art well? The 
trial hath not fatigued thee? Methinks it hath not 
harmed thine appearance. 

Betty, (shyly) Methinks I have not hitherto 
appreciated the law. 

Belden. And can you forgive me? 

Betty. Forgive? 

Belden. For speaking — for saying — Betty, I 
could not withstand their hard faces. My own 
temper waxed wroth. I had to speak and say that I 
did love you ! 

(Hangs his head.) 

Betty, (anxiously) And thou didst — you did — 
not mean it? 

Belden. (fervently but wretchedly) Ay, thou 
knowst I love thee with my whole heart. (Betty 
smiles) But 'twas not for them to hear. 'Twas for 
thee alone. 

Betty. In truth, to hear you say it at all has been 
a privilege which I have been permitted to enjoy but 
seldom ! 

Belden. (in the depths of despondency) It 
would not be right for me to urge thee now when 
thou art weak in the sorrow that he whom thou dost 
love hath married another. Why do I trouble thee ? 

(Goes towards house.) 

Betty. Yes, why? I am minded of something 
David hath said. 

Belden. David ! I fear I despise him. 

Betty, (tremulously) Why should you despise a 
man who has been dead hundreds of years ? 
(Belden stares at her) I did speak of King David. 



DEC 13 1913 

66 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

Was't not he who said "All men are liars?" 
(edging farther away) Methinks when he did say 
that, he was over-chivalrous to the women. 

Belden. (going over to her) What meanest 
thou ? (seises her hands) Thou art too quick for 
me. Betty, is it possible — ? 

Betty, (firmly) I will help thee no more. 

Belden. (joyously) Then must I help myself. 
' Why art thou cast down ? " 

(Kisses her.) 

CURTAIN. 



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